The Ordeal
by raincoatandaxe
Summary: Nellie Lovett has dreamed of having a child all her life...and a child with Sweeney Todd? Even better...but things don't always go the intended way. And the results can be...hell. Literally. Rated M for:gore, extreme sex, horror themes, etc.
1. Introduction

_Well, I have finally begun. It only took me 398 months to begin this, haha. I have had the idea for this particular story in mind for about 2 months now...long before that I always wanted to write a Sweeney fan fiction, but I never, ever wanted to write something cliché. I wanted mine to really be different, something no one was expecting. Now, I can't give myself all the credit for this story haha, because I have been inspired by a lot of other works of literature and film along the way...But I want to combine everything in a completely unique and bizarre way. I'd rather not say much else right now, about what films and books in particular have inspired me, because I want to keep the plot as secretive as possible for now. When it gets going, I really want it to hit everyone hard. I want it to be a huge shock...So I hope I can achieve that. :) _

_And I should add my note of warning here, at the beginning, before anyone begins to read and get into this story. I am a writer of extreme scenarios, which means I include a lot of gore, violence, sex, etc, etc in my stories. I can't tell you guys exactly what I have in store, but if you are offended by any amount of gore, sexual violence, anything at all, I advise you not to read this. If anyone has read my other fan fiction, for _American Psycho_, that should pretty much tell you what I am capable of writing in terms of splatter hah. _

_I am trying really hard to keep this authors note short but I suck at doing that haha...but I will warn everyone: I'm not the fastest writer out there. I don't put up chapter after chapter every other day, or even every week. I like to thoroughly research and create my stories. I get writers block too. Sometimes for a very long time. So I am also going to warn everyone about that. But I do know where this story will start and end. And with that, I leave you all with : **The Ordeal.**_

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When a person looks into a mirror, they can envision an entire life for themselves. Nellie Lovett was no different in the fantasies she saw for herself when she peered into her looking glass, than anyone other low class woman living in the dreary city of London in 1865. Except the face she saw in the center of the mirror beside her was that of a murderous barber, and not of a kingly, prosperous judge or some other nonsensical man of a higher class. No. Nellie Lovett simply saw her own pallid face, only the beauty of it was heightened by the happiness she imaged she would someday have. In her fantasy, Sweeney Todd stood beside her, not much changed from the concrete version of himself, only now his face showed the genuine love she knew he would have one day for her. Beside them stood the boy, Toby. The deadness which she saw all too often in his eyes in her own reality was now lifted, expunged from within him. The face of an angel, the lovely vitality a young boy such as Toby Ragg should have, was what she saw. But most of all, what her eyes focused on was what her fabricated image held in it's arms. What fraudulent Sweeney peered at so lovingly, so unlike the legitimate version. The rosy softness of the babe in her arms, the tendrils of hair curling off the forehead. The deep chocolate eyes. An image of the child's mother and father.

This was what Nellie Lovett saw in the looking glass. What was burned into her mind each day as her rolling pin flattened the sticky dough beneath it, or when she brought each useless but thoughtfully prepared meal up the rickety stairs to the cold man above. When his eyes flashed dead, when they felt as if they split her up the middle with their piercing animosity, that was the image she conjured for herself.

And as time drew it's long line through her life, and the profits combined from both her own and the barber's sinful, reprehensible business' became a small fortune, she smiled to herself inside, because she knew each day the image in the mirror was closer and closer to coming within her grasp. Oh, it hadn't been easy, but then, she never had expected it to be.

The dawdling way time had moved within her world made her internal clock crack slowly, and she heard it. She heard it all the time now. The sanity on her outward face was easily kept for now, but inside, she was a black turmoil of confusion and pandemonium. Her mind was as sharp as ever, but she knew she was losing something inside of her that wasn't visible. And she had known she had to act fast.

Nellie Lovett had somehow conjured up the courageous face she needed to confront Sweeney Todd one day, and everything in her world had changed. She hadn't expected the way his face fell, not in a displeased nor disgusted manner as she expected, but in a comprehensive realization of what she was asking of him.

What she was asking of him was marriage. A new life that would hopefully rejuvenate them both, if only by a morsel. They both saw the jagged, icy path their lives were headed down. They were skidding towards a black cave to be smothered in blood and sorrow, the entrance forever closed. The time was now to reverse their path, and she had seen it in Sweeney's eyes that he knew this. And so he had agreed.

Although the wedding they were able to render for themselves was less than anything Nellie Lovett had imagined for herself, she nonetheless was unable to destroy the smile that was fixed upon her face that day. The exquisite Victorian emerald that was surrounded by rose cut diamonds on an 18k gold band lay alluringly on Nellie's ring finger, and she was sure at that moment she would never set her eyes on a more beautiful object. Possessing such an item, and at that, from a man who she had long ago given her heart to, made her sure her mirror fantasy was meant to be her actual reality. _If Sweeney only married me because he knew he had to, because he thought life couldn't get any worse _, Nellie asked herself, _why would he bother putting any thought into the object which would seal our marriage? Why would he exhaust half of the small fortune he has acquired as of late? _H_e must have only done so because somewhere in his soul, there is still a sliver of love in him, and he is finally letting it out...and giving it to me. _Yes, these were the words Nellie Lovett told herself on her wedding night, lying beside her new husband, her long ago rumpled bedding now finally legitimized. Her heart still fluttering from what activities her and Sweeney had only ended a few minutes ago, he now fast asleep beside her, an almost...content look upon his face. _Was Sweeney Todd capable of being content? _An almost mocking voice rang in Nellie's head. _Of course he is. Now that he has me, I will see to his every need and demand, no matter what. For he is now my husband, and I could never ask for more._

But there was one more thing she needed to complete the image she had been so intensely consumed by in her mirror. _Mirror mirror on the wall, give me love, once and for all. _As she lay beside her newly attained husband that night, her hands drifted mindlessly onto her empty, childless belly. _Oh, but to bear Sweeney Todd's child would be the most wonderful thing I could ever ask for in this world. _She felt her lips curl into a smile of contentment and spectacle at the thought. Of course, the mention of any more children in the lives of Sweeney Todd and Nellie Lovett had not been brought up, not on their first night of marriage, nor in any other passing conversation...but Nellie knew a child would soon be in her belly. Because that was simply the way it would be.

But what she didn't know at that precise moment was exactly who this child would be when it came out of her womb after nine long months of concealment, and how exactly that child would come to be there. Oh yes, Nellie Lovett would have her child she always wanted. But would the world be ready when it burst out of her?

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_Well, there it is. I'm sort of nervous about this haha...I've never wrote an "epic" story before, as I am hoping this one will be...and this will probably be the only first and last chapter of it's kind, where no major events occur within it...I wanted to start chapter 1 with the actual story that would take place, and get straight to the point, but I know I needed to provide a bit of background things on the relationships and such before I get started...so that's why I wrote the introduction instead of going straight to the first chapter._

_Okay, I will shut up now, and hope that people actually read this and review it and enjoy it or hate it or anything really...I'm so excited for what I have planned, and things will really take off next chapter :0_

_xxxx Melissa_


	2. It All Begins With the Eyes

_Okay, this took awhile, but not as long as I expected haha...I said I'm a really slow writer, and I mean it...:( _

_I just wanted to add a little note that a few things are going to be tweaked here and there from the original/movie version of Sweeney : for example, in the last chapter I said that the year was 1865, although a year is never given in the film/play. I just thought this would be an appropriate time, and it seemed fitting. Along the way I will probably change a few other details to make it all come together better._

_Oh, and this chapter starts with the M rated content...so don't read it if you don't like rape or violence or strong sexual language or somewhat Anti-Christian themes, don't read it, don't complain and say I didn't tell you ha. _

_Alright, I will shut up now haha. _

A dark street is seldom promising. A dark alley, even less so. What menacing monsters of the night might coil their clawed hands around your frail wrist, stealing you away from sanity forever? A broken alley was certainly no place for a woman to be found on a somber evening.

But Nellie Lovett told herself differently. After all, she wasn't just any woman, was she? She had, as it was, had her fair share of tribulations in her lifetime: a portly, blimp of a husband who was only capable of violation to a woman, a family who never held her highly in their eyes, and a broken thread of hope connected to a remorseless shell of a man. Oh yes, Nellie Lovett had had plenty of trials and sufferings for which she could be granted a token of crying pity for; yet she didn't. She was a woman who had long ago learned that the world was not apt to be on anyone's side. And there had been no point in her life to prove her wrong on this thought. Tonight, however, would confirm her thoughts that the world, or at least London, was a cesspool for the worst of humankind. What other species of God's creation committed such atrocities upon their own kind, for no other reason besides simple enjoyment, than a human? But if Nellie's thoughts of the abominations mankind was able to commit were already tainted, she would leave the alley behind Flemmet's Grocer that night with much different thoughts...

Toby had been quick to inform Nellie that evening that her supply of eggs for the morning batch of pies was running extremely low. She had been wary to step outside at the late hour of evening he had told her this news. She could have asked Sweeney (_my new husband,_ she thought almost dreamily) to accompany her, but she wasn't ready to be the first source of anger to him since their wedding the previous week. Of course, Sweeney was always in a state of anger and brooding, but she didn't want to heighten that, now did she? Sweeney couldn't be bothered to attend to such trivial tasks as accompanying his wife to the market in the evening, when he had a holster of razors to shine and care for. And the boy, Toby, had best be getting himself to bed soon. He was in no fit condition to haul himself off to the market with his mum, when his stomach was surely swirling full of gin. In all fairness, the hour itself was not yet that late: it was the strange time of day between late afternoon and evening, when the sky took on deeper colors, bringing out the hoodlums of the night. Nellie was always a trifle nervous to find herself outside the comforts of her shop after the sun began to set.

But it seemed as if she did not have much choice in the matter. She would be much too busy the following morning to run out for eggs, and Toby surely wouldn't be awake when she needed him. So, wrapping herself in her warmest shawl, tucking a few pounds between her supple breasts, she briskly walked outside. She thought it best not tell tell Sweeney she was leaving, because she never knew what might stir up one of his fits. Besides, she wouldn't be gone that long, now would she?

After quite an uneventful trip to Flemmet's Grocer (unless Mrs. Larson questioning Nellie about her new marriage to Sweeney, gushing a bit too enthusiastically about her ring and returning to her own husband , whom was a cousin of the prime minister, whilst throwing Nellie rather blunt, pretentious glances, counted as anything worth mentioning), Nellie once again found herself on the barren street outside the grocer. It seemed the sky had fallen quickly while she had been inside, although it couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes.

The inky sootiness of the sky blazed above her in a rather sinister way, as if to remind her to hurry herself home. Fleet Street wasn't more than a few blocks from Flemmet's Grocer, yet Nellie was aware even a small amount of distance could be a misfortune to her. Her carton of eggs held tight to her chest, Nellie's heels clicked across the cracked, weathered streets. At this time, the only daring people out were either prostitutes or gentleman preparing for an evening drink. Everyone else had the sense to know the dangers of London after dark. And Nellie herself had had firsthand accounts of what might befall a pretty, naive woman...

She hadn't taken more than a few rapid steps from the doorway of Flemmet's when she was ripped from the street into the alley behind the shop. _Oh, please God, not this again. Haven't I been through this enough?This can't happen to me when I have Sweeney in my life, not now. It was never supposed to happen to me again, _she thought hysterically, the cold, almost frigid grasp on her arm pulling her down. This wasn't her first experience with being dragged into a dark, dank corner of a London street, a seedy, greasy man with a half toothless grin polluting her body with his repulsive cock.

But all those times had been the same: a hot, rank breath in her ear, a growl of anger at her cries, a hand shoved forcefully over her mouth. All those unknown, faceless men had been the same man to her. It always ended the same as it started. Her shaking hands dusting off invisible monsters from her dress, a soggy face pallid in the streetlights, stumbling along the streets back to her home. Dress torn, hair amiss, a staggering feeling of repugnance, but she was still Nellie Lovett when she walked through the door of her Fleet Street Emporium.

This, though. This wasn't anything like all those other times. The lack of mocking, stinking voices in her ear made her timorous. This man, whoever he was, hadn't uttered one word since he pulled her from the mask of London's streets. Even with her eyes as wide as she could force them to open, she was aware she wasn't going to be able to identify this creature of the night from the damp, black walls she was pressed against. The air was steaming, sooty and heavy, a chilled breeze hinted between the layers of pollution. But try as she might, there wasn't a single word drifting to her. Nothing was said in that abyss of moral deterioration on this night. Not once.

But her awareness, her clear consciousness of pain made up for lack of words. Oh, of course it had never been _satisfying _to be raped those other times, but never agonizing. Disgusting and degrading, surely, but not once had she felt her body being ripped open like this, and not in just a physical sense. As he soundlessly bored and _drilled _(for that was exactly what it felt like) himself into her, she was aware, as crazy as the words sounded to her, of pieces of her soul...no, her _sanity _being ripped out of her. What _was _this man?

As he spilled his impression, his mark, his gift of bane into her, she tried to scream, tried to yell, but her voice couldn't spill any sound. Just as her body couldn't resist. Even if she had thought to struggle, thought to kick, bite, claw at this man, she knew she wouldn't have been able to. An invisible will was holding her from doing so.

She became aware of her surroundings once more when she felt daggered nails drag down her back, ripping her dress to shreds. At once the force of cold, of air hit her back, and she knew she was bleeding. Ripe, elongated lines of the red liquid was drawn out from her flesh, dripping down her back slowly like the sticky, purposeful trail of a snail.

The dozen of eggs she had been holding so protectively to her chest were now smashed across the alley, across her chest, dripping into the folds between her legs, she could feel the eggshells crunch as she tried to move, digging into her, bleeding her more. Gooey yolks dripped from her torn cunt, mixed with the fluid ejected from that _thing _now standing beside her. An egg had somehow found its way into her hair, streams of the clear sinewy stuff blinding her temporarily, not that it mattered in this dark hell.

Her last awareness of him in that poetic, void dungeon was of a yellow pair of eyes. The door from the grocer had temporarily opened, letting loose a small flood of light, not enough to allow her to see much down the alley, but she saw eyes. Eyes she never wanted to see again. And there was nothing in them. No hatred, no mockery, no rage, nothing at all in those eyes acknowledged the debauchery that had taken place here. They were empty, devoid of anything that gave eyes humanity.

And just as quick as he had found her, broke her, he left her. Not a single word the whole time, and he had destroyed her. Her body wilting against the wall, her heart thrusting inside of her at an impossible rate, the blood dripping from her in orifices she hadn't been aware were torn at a profuse rate, eggshells cracking under her feet...she knew then with a certain clarity there was one ultimate, undeniable truth in the world: there was no God. Had there been one at that moment anyways, who shone his face to her, Nellie knew she would have spit at him. She would have hurled her bloody saliva right at his eyes, blinding him from her presence and her resentment and her shame and the truth of what she would soon become.

Her body sinking down the wall, eggs cracking and crumbling beneath her bottom, her head drooping into her hands, the tears taking control of her now...looking back at everything that had happened that night, she had known how her ordeal began. With the eyes.

_Well, I can't say I love this chapter as much as the first one. I felt a bit stiff writing this, like the words didn't flow as well as they did for my introduction. Which is probably bad, since this is one of the most vital chapters to set the overall tone for this story...but it could be a lot worse, I think._

_I am so excited though, because I'm really getting a lot of ideas for this fic. I've wrote tons of little notes down, and I have some crazy, bizarre things planned out...I know now how everything will come together, and that makes me happy._

_Please let me know what you guys think of this story so far, any thoughts and ideas, constructive criticism, whatever, I highly appreciate it!_

_xxxxxxxxxxx Melissa _


	3. The Seed of the Beginning

_Well here is some Sweenett smut as my Christmas present to you all haha! :D_

_I just wanted to mention before I start that I know I haven't really developed the characters of Sweeney and Nellie much, or said much about their relationship. I realize that I've kind of just wrote it in that they got married instantly at the beginning, without any emotions being revealed really, or anything. Now, I didn't do that on accident. I did that because the relationship of Sweeney and Nellie is not the focus of this story. This is not about whether or not they live happily ever after together, or whether they still find themselves unhappy, etc, etc. I don't want to spend too much time focusing on their actual marriage and relationship. I realize this might turn some of you off, but you'll see later on why this is my intention. I will of course, write a few scenes where it is revealed how they are taking their marriage, how they feel about each other, etc. But this is not in any way a romance/relationship centered fan fic, and I wanted to clear that up._

_And I really hated having to write a rape scene the last chapter, simply because I realize how cliché those are in Sweeney fics. But trust me, it was an essential chapter to the story, and it had to be done. But no worries, this is not going in the typical "Sweeney-seeks-revenge-after-the-rapist" etc, etc direction. I hate writing anything cliché, and I am trying really hard to stay away from that._

Sweeney Todd, although it could never be suspected by his exterior appearance, was a man of habit and perfection. A man who, each evening, was urged to polish and beautify a row of seven cherished godly chunks of silver. A man who followed through each and every shave he performed (or in most cases, unpredictable murder) meticulously, even when he knew how it would end. Details were of the utmost importance to him, and when one thing was out of place, it would surely throw him into a fit of agitation.

So on the evening on which Nellie Lovett was alarmed of a low supply of eggs, Sweeney Todd performed his evening routine no differently than on any other night. To be quite frank, Sweeney hadn't even taken notice of his wife's absence. The line of razors on his dresser beckoned his attention more than anything at the time being, and so he attended to them. But as he carefully set the last razor into it's place of his holster, he happened to glance at the clock. It was some time after 6 o clock', and the absence of Nellie's chirping voice informing him of dinner disquieted him. Usually at about this time he would be sitting in the booth downstairs, a rather vile portion of untouched meat pie in front of him, and a much more consumed bottle of rum in his hand. His eyes would be following Nellie's plump bosom as she bent over to put away the evening's dishes, and it was around then he would usually find himself dragging her back to the bedroom. Or, in the case when the boy, Toby, had drank more than he could handle, he would take her right in the kitchen. But none of that was happening at the moment, and this concerned Sweeney. He knew that Nellie, like himself, was someone who rarely strayed from routine.

Sweeney had, although of course somewhat begrudgingly, married Nellie. He simply had agreed to it at the time because he had thought it could not deteriorate his life any more at this point. But he knew he would have never truly agreed to marriage again unless he felt something. And as minuscule as the sliver of attraction he felt for Nellie was, it was still there. And it had certainly grown in the 3 weeks of marriage they shared. Sweeney never wanted to confront that he felt any sort of affection for Nellie, but it was what it was, and Sweeney didn't feel like exerting the energy anymore to push her away. And so he found himself once again with a wife, and once again in a moment of distress over a woman.

Sighing, Sweeney trampled down the rickety back staircase, eager to find the boy and question him about his wife's whereabouts. But he was starkly disappointed to find Toby sprawled over the chaise lounge, an empty bottle of ale on the floor beside him. _Of course, _Sweeney thought to himself, _that bloody woman let's the boy have as much rum as he wants. Bloody boy needs a proper lesson of discipline one of these days, worthless waste of air..._Knowing that it was a mostly trivial use of energy, since the boy usually slept through anything (most often his and Nellie's late night romps against the walls) he kicked the boy in the side. A grunt, a flung out arm, and a mutter was all he achieved through this. A sudden fury overtook him, and he find himself grabbing the boy, shaking him like a dog with a dead rabbit limp in it's mouth.

"Wha-a-at?" Toby stuttered, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, surely feeling the turmoil clogging his thoughts.

"Boy, where the bloody hell is Mrs. Lovett? It's past dinner, and she's not come upstairs. And she certainly isn't anywhere down here." His eyes were a deep pit of black fire, his tongue forked and stinging. Or at least in Toby's eyes. At that moment Sweeney Todd was the devil himself, at home in the bowels of a dingy London parlor. Toby swallowed hard, fearing talons reaching out to rip his throat and devour his innards. He had to speak, and quick.

"She...went to the market few minutes ago. Needed some eggs." Toby still couldn't quite string his words together, what with a bottle of rum tumbling throughout him, and a hellion standing in front of him.

"Couldn't she have waited for the morning? Stupid woman, going out at night with the filth of London slinking about..." Sweeney sighed, stomping back upstairs. Of course part of him was worried about her, but he couldn't muster up the rationalization as to why he should go looking for her right now. The boy was probably right. She would only be a few more minutes; no need to flood the streets of London in a bath of blood tonight. At least not at the moment. Besides, it still wasn't an unjustly hour. The street lights had yet to flicker their orange flames on. _Bloody woman probably chatting the shop owner up as she does with everyone. Needs a proper coat of glue on her mouth one of these days. _Sweeney smirked to himself, leaning back in his deadly throne upstairs.

He didn't even recall his eyelids falling closed, but somehow they must have. And he was shocked to find he had slept through the opening and closing of the door downstairs, and the pattering of Nellie's feet on the stairwell. But here she stood, freshly bathed and smelling of all the flowers in the whole bloody city. Dressed in only her lace trimmed corset and pantaloons, her eyes looked tired, nearly dead, but a smile was decorated on her face.

"Where the hell have you been, Nellie? Going off to get bloody eggs in the middle of the night! You're going to get yourself killed or raped, woman!" Sweeney stood up, looking down at the petite, oddly alluring woman in front of him. Something about her at this particular moment provoked waves of arousal in him.

"It was hardly the middle of the night, Mistah T. I run out of eggs, was all that happened. Didn't wanna come and tell yah, because I bloody well knew yah would react like this. 'Sides, it's all over and done with now, and I'm home and fine." The floor had somehow suddenly become fascinating though, to Nellie, and her eyes were locked on a spot of dust in the corner.

"Well what took you so long just to get a dozen of eggs? Shouldn't seem that hard to just walk over a few streets and come back home." Sweeney almost didn't care at this point. Nellie was here now, and apparently intact in every way he could tell. But he needed to hear a confirmation of sorts to let him know she had found herself in no trouble.

Her eyes still mentally sweeping the dusty floors, she quickly told him, "Ran into Mrs. Serus love, that's all. You know that woman, bloody doesn't know when a person isn't interested in conversation. Had me held up for what must've been 20 minutes!"

Sweeney rolled his eyes at these words coming from a woman who found the incessant need to discuss a new recipe for sweet rolls first thing in the morning , when his eyes were barely unglued of sleep. For the time being, her answer would do. Her eyes were lying, and he knew it, and she knew he knew it. But there were more important urges overtaking them both at that moment.

The tipping of Nellie's breasts as she bent down to examine a spot of blood near the chair sent Sweeney into another world. The worries of Nellie's earlier exact whereabouts were no longer the main concern on his mind; instead, the aching, pulsating problem in his pants now replaced that.

With a sudden growl of eagerness, Sweeney curled his hands around Nellie's slender waist, sitting her down in his lap as he sat himself down on his chair. Fervid emotions brought their clothes off quickly, Nellie's nipples pointed hard and erect against Sweeney's own bare chest, legs locked tight around his waist. His hands grabbed greedily at her plump, soft bottom, her breasts flattened against him, her tongue over his ear. Soft breathes and sighs were sounded, momentarily becoming quicker and shorter.

"Oh bloody 'ell, love. Lemme ride yah now, Sweeney." Her guttural gasps and high pitched shivers confirmed that she couldn't go on a second longer like this. Her eyes dark, liquid, full of lust and arousal, closed as she swiftly opened her legs, her cunt wet and aching, sliding the whole of Sweeney into her fully. Her nails clawed down his back as she pumped and rode him, slowly at first, then quickly she held onto him, grinding herself into him with everything she had . Sweeney's thumb and forefinger pinched her nipple, bringing even more rosy color to it. Her breasts were heavy and fleshy, cupped in his hands tightly. With each squeeze, he seemed to compress another moan from her. Her face was a picture of sex: eyes slowly rolling back into her head as an orgasm shuddered through her, mouth parted ever so slightly, plump lips moist with Sweeney's saliva.

The noises she made as she came were almost kitten like, soft mewling and whimpers, then suddenly a loud cry as she clenched around him, falling into his chest, calling out his name. Sweeney inwardly let out his own cry of pleasure as he shot warmly into her, grasping her tightly. The chair tipped backwards dangerously as they both ground their sexes together, causing Nellie to call attention to it.

"We're going to fall down your bloody chute into the basement, love!" Her eyes wide with a rush of fear, she tried to pull Sweeney back. Trying steadily to keep himself inside her, Sweeney and Nellie collapsed to the floor directly below the chair. It was better not to take any chances with the chair, even if it was supposed to only be activated when it was unlatched. Something must've been faulty in it now, what with so much furious stomping on the latch each day.

Sitting on top of him still, her breasts erotically jiggling with every thrust, her nipples pointed upward stiffly, Sweeney felt another wave of orgasm wash through him.

"Oh Nellie, love." He couldn't help but call out, clutching her bum in his hands, again releasing himself into her. Nellie followed him again shortly, but the lust in her eyes seemed to overtake her entire face. The sudden flash of darkness that washed over her, something entering her eyes as she thrust against him, told Sweeney something was different. He found his attention quickly averted from such thoughts, though, when he felt a dragging, dull pain down his back, and a soft warm trickle, as her nails dug into his flesh.

Nellie collapsed beside him on the floor, her breasts rising and falling as she heavily lapped up air into her lungs. Whatever had painted her face somber a second ago was now no longer evident, and all he saw was warmth and love in her eyes as she glanced at the reddening floor.

"Oh, Mistah T! I didn't mean to hurt yah, love! Got so lost in the moment...yah 'ad me coming so bloody fast, didn't realize what happened. Are yah all right, dearie?" Her face expressed sudden immense concern for the velvety flow down his back and the ragged flesh beneath.

"Oh dear...seems I hurt you more than I expected, love. Lemme clean yah right up." She made to get up, but Sweeney grabbed her ankles, pulling her back down against him.

"It's fine, my pet. Leave it." He growled deeply into her ear.

"Well, if you do insist..." Without another word of protest, Nellie found herself scooped into Sweeney's arms without notice, and in Sweeney's rickety, dusty, poor excuse for a bed in the corner. It hadn't been used, not in 15 years, and she couldn't see why he would want anything to do with such an atrocious piece of furniture now, especially when a plush, luxurious bed was waiting for them downstairs. But she saw the sleep leak into Sweeney's eyes, as he set her down beside him, pulling crusty, ragged sheets over them both. She supposed he couldn't be bothered to carry the two of them down the stairs, not with all the energy exerted between the two of them tonight, and she made no complaint as she curled into his arms.

It was quite a shock, to see Sweeney's eyes close before hers, when it she who was the one anxious to fall asleep each night usually. But tonight, she was the one watching over Sweeney's sleeping form, a slight smile cracking on her face, as she gazed upon the man she loved and loved since the beginning of life. She realized what a funny thing love was, just then. That another human could expel such strong, positive emotions for another, with no reason or doubt. Nothing to justify it. It just was, and it just happened. And it was rather startling, she thought, to think how acts of love could be twisted around, and forced upon another, unwilling participant.

Her mind, of course, was on the rape she experienced earlier in the evening. Why she did not tell Sweeney of it, she did not know then. But she had heard a sudden voice in her mind tell her that it was to protect him. Of what, she wasn't sure. But she had listened to it. Would she tell him? _It's probably not necessary, not with 'is temper. Stupid man, would ravage the whole city of London to find the man who did this to me, just to make 'imself feel a little better. _No, Nellie thought. Best to leave such dark secrets hidden inside herself. But if she had only known then, that a secret as black and spiteful as tar is bound to surface sooner or later...in one form or another.

_Well, that was like the longest thing I've ever written, even though it wasn't very long haha. I don't want anyone to think this is a filler chapter, that I just threw in some Sweenett sex for no reason (although Sweenett sex doesn't need a reason to be written haha) because it was a somewhat crucial part. You guys just don't know it yet haha. A lot of bits and pieces surely don't make a lot of sense right now, I understand, but most everything will come together by the end, I have no doubt about that._

_Well, I hope I'll have another chapter up quicker, but for now, how a lovely, sexy-ful Sweenett Christmas everyone! :D_

_xxxxx Melissa_


	4. The Shape of Things to Come

_Alright, so um. I'm going to be really honest here. I don't know whether to continue this story or not. I really want to, because I think I have a lot of great ideas (but the author always thinks that hahaha) but...I'm not getting a great response to this story so far. I mean, I hate to say this, but reviews are really what fuel a writer, and without many, it just makes all the work I do feel pointless when I don't get much response. I know I keep saying how original and weird this story is going to be, and nothing really original or weird has happened yet, and that might be why people are tuning out. But I am trying to slowly develop this story. Right now it's not like a 'WHAM BAM ACTION EVERY FIVE MINUTES" sort of thing. It is slow right now. I get that. _

_But I had plans to make this a fairly long story and...I don't know if that is going to happen now. I mean, for at least a few more chapters I will probably continue, but if I get don't get much response, I'll probably end this. Which I don't really want to do but...yeah...:\_

The quiet, unscathed surface of a new day, with the faintest hint of wispy sunlight attempting to break through the barrier of a window, the still air dusty with remnants from the previous days conversation. This is always the perfect setting for a reflection upon oneself.

Nellie Lovett found herself in the budding hours of morning standing in front of the looking glass of Sweeney Todd's barber shop. A rather foul piece of glass it was, quite the opposite of her own polished, ornamental looking glass downstairs, cracked and split in places, veiled in a covering of ancient dust, it produced a somewhat distorted image of whomever was peering into it. But the image Nellie perceived of herself at that moment _was _rather warped from its usual appearance.

Her eyes drifted from her twin in the mirror, to the crumbling, decrepit bed in the corner, on which Sweeney Todd himself was still asleep. This was quite an unusual observance, since Sweeney was a man known for habitual nocturnal activity, and she had hardly seen him sleep a moment, let alone a whole night. But she supposed he would be rather tired from their lusty, vigorous activities of the previous evening. _Funny, _she thought, _but I don't feel the least bit worn out meself this morning...quite the contrary, in fact. I feel rather full of vitality. _

Turning back to her counterpart in the mirror, she thoughtfully studied herself. For a moment, she saw what she had always seen reflected in the looking glass: a petite, rather pallor looking woman, with a head full of ravishing, auburn curls, and thick, plump lips, deep chocolate eyes completing her rather doll-ish,demure face. But in a hasty moment of confusion, she saw her eyes deepen and darken, her lips reddened, blood red, yes it was in fact blood staining them...oh those eyes, those couldn't be hers, could they? They didn't belong on any human face; they were wicked, black, drilling, insane, pits of hatred and evil . She saw her nails scrape down her chest, blood spilling rapidly, fingers raised to her lips, licking, relishing in the coppery flavor. Her mouth twisted into a smile, teeth sharp, _oh no, that's not me, no. _

She blinked. Her face was now that of Nellie Lovett, not some horrible demoness. The sun had somehow now burst into the room, spilling over, a taunting thing it was. An allegory for the two worlds in this room. Hell and heaven.

Gasping, Nellie stumbled back. _Oh, it was just me head playing tricks wit' me. Aven't 'ad much sleep is all. And wat' can I expect, chopping people up day in and out, baking 'em into bloody pies, all them __guts and blood all day...'Course I would see meself as I did. _

Collecting herself, Nellie glanced back into the mirror briefly. She hadn't meant to; she didn't trust mirrors anymore now. But a flash of red had caught her eye faintly, and she stared. She was Nellie Lovett again, same as always, but...Three long scratches dragged down the front of her chest, blood spilling out swiftly. A glance at her fingertips confirmed her fears. Her lips were blemished with the liquid as well. Red was drying under her nails, flaking off, coppery in color. Yes, that part had happened, hadn't it? Although she couldn't fathom how she hadn't felt her own nails tear her own flesh.

Eyes widening, keeping the shrieks deep down in her throat, she backed out of the room, into the upstairs bathroom. _I mustn't wake Sweeney, that's the most important thing...can't let him see me like this..._The dank, cold room, devoid of much light, crashed around her. She swiftly shut the door, leaned over the scummy sink, dampening a rag. Hands trembling, she lathered the rag over her naked chest. It came away red, and it took more than a few rinses for the water to clear.

Just as she was finished removing all traces that blood had entered this room, the door opened. Sweeney's eyes widened, seeing Nellie's naked form bent over the sink, scrubbing intensely.

"What the bloody hell are you doing in here, woman? Scrubbing sinks, without any stitch of clothing on...you out of your bleeding mind?" Nellie started to utter an excuse, but Sweeney's eyes caught on her back.

"What's this?" He pointedly said, his face washed over with a token of concern.

"Wat's what?" Nellie confusedly looked at him, not following his eyes.

"Your back. What's all those scratches on them? Up and down, like some bloody beast crawled up your back." He watched as Nellie's eyes averted at once to the floor, then met Sweeney's once again.

"Oh those? Probly' from last night is all, love. You know how we was acting an' all. A little too rambunctious, we was. Yah got some scratches yerself, love." She lowered her eyes, peering lustily at him.

Before this, she had been facing away from Sweeney, turned towards the sink. He had yet to see the fresh marks across her chest. Those might be a little harder to explain, she thought. But then Sweeney placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, turning her to him. He had been about to agree with her answer, thinking there wasn't really any other explanation, and then his eyes had fixed upon her ravaged chest.

"And I supposed I did this as well?" He asked, his voice hinting at suspicion and irritability, yet a wave of concern entered it as well.

"I...suppose yah' did love. Dunno 'ow else they would've got there...Doesn't matter anyways, love. All over and done with now, and we ain't the worse for it. Just a bit scratched is all. We'll live, won't we, dear?"

Sweeney knew she was lying, once again. Twice in less than twenty-four hours now, he had accepted her answers, devouring them without question. At the time being, questioning was not worth the fury it was sure to induce from Nellie. _Besides, _Sweeney thought _no use provoking even more words from that __woman, what with her blabbering about all day long. Couldn't take whatever explanation it was she has, since it would knowingly take her ages to finish. _No, for the time being, silence was the best medicine to Sweeney's bubbling curiosity.

After the encounter in the bathroom, Nellie and Sweeney did not cross each other's paths for the rest of the day. It wasn't that either of them was angry with the other...because it would have been silly to bicker with one another over a few little scratches, right? They just had no particular reason to see each other until evening, when they would, predictably, repeat the previous evenings romp. No matter how either of them felt at the end of the day, a quick shag was sure to make the day somewhat worthwhile to them both.

It wasn't always something they did in the same way, or the same place, or for the same amount of time. Sweeney and Nellie didn't care; they were careless and not the least bit ashamed of the sexual attraction they constantly felt towards one another. Now that they were married, they found it perfectly acceptable to do it each evening, wherever and however they felt like, even if Toby had only a minuscule amount of gin in him. It was something they both admitted they needed from each other, not only for the obvious pleasure it gave them both, but for the shelter it gave them, if only for the briefest of moments. It sheltered them from what neither could deny was part of their present lifestyle: the atrocities they willingly performed each day to an innocent person without a bit of remorse; it sheltered them from wicked memories that stung them from the past; and it sheltered them most of all from whatever they would become in the future. Because although neither would admit it, they both knew that a path of dismembered, slit throated bodies was sure to eventually lead a seeker to the sinner.

_That wasn't very long, I know. But I didn't want to really reveal much else yet in this chapter haha. But this was again, an essential chapter and not a filler. However unseemingly so it might seem right now. _

_Anyways, please, I would honestly like to know if you guys want me to continue this. I want to know if you hate it or don't like certain ideas, ANYTHING. I just would love feedback, good or bad. And I'll try not to be so slow at writing this if I do continue it haha...:D_

_xxxxx Melissa_


	5. Whatever the Case May Be

_Well, I decided to keep writing anyways, even if no one really reads this haha. I do get a pretty good amount of views, so that is enough to make me keep writing. I honestly want to see for myself how it will turn out. I want to see my ideas come to life, if that makes sense. So yeah. No worries for now. I'm trying to be a little faster writing too but we'll see about that haha!_

The days and weeks that followed Nellie's second encounter with the looking glass passed by like ships on an ocean of tar. Life went on quite simply as it had before Sweeney and Nellie had been binded in marriage. The thoughts Nellie had of that fateful night slowly leaked out of her mind like stale water. The scars etched down her back and chest evaporated slowly, until they were but a faint memory.

Throats were slit as usual, bodies hacked apart, pies baked and sold, counters cleaned, blood mopped up. In other words, life went on as usual on Fleet-street. Sweeney and Nellie continued their nightly escapades, but without the blood shed that had occurred once before. The daytimes passed as usual as well; Sweeney continued his quite practiced behavior of slyly ignoring everything Nellie said to him, polishing razors that needed no polishing, and occasionally brooding out at the long, dark skies of London. His obsession and infatuation with his beloved Lucy and the Judge had somewhat subsided, though, since he married Nellie. Oh, but of course the old Sweeney Todd still lived inside him, for how could he not? He would always be there now, like an old scar that never truly is faded. But Sweeney seemed almost...indifferent to life now, instead of in a passionate fury at everything he set eyes on.

He continued his killings each day simply because it was what he did now. Nellie and him both knew their riches were summing up to quite a nice amount by now, but they had had no great discussions on what to do with them. It just hadn't occurred to either of them at the time to change anything else in their lives. Things were placid and still for the time being. Why bother upsetting the seas they floated on now?

But one morning, it became clear that life will never remain tranquil for long...

Sweeney had just swallowed down a tumbler of gin as his morning nourishment, when he heard Nellie stumbling down the hallway. Thinking that perhaps she was just a bit lightheaded and weak from the night before (oh, they had been particularly animalistic last night...) he ignored the sound, and proceeded to make his way up the stairway. His foot stopped mid air though, when he heard quite a horrid retching sound.

_Bloody woman, what did I tell her about not trying to out drink me? Of course she never learns. _Sweeney sighed, stomping down the hallway to the bathroom where Nellie was leant over a crummy chamber pot. Still in her nightclothes, she looked up weakly at Sweeney, a rather unattractive string of bile hanging from her mouth. Wiping it away quickly, she began to open her mouth to speak when another wave of nausea struck her, and her face was once again lost in the chamber pot.

Finally regaining her strength and breath, she stood up somewhat wobbly, and croaked to Sweeney, " I jus' dunno wat's gotten into me, love. Had but one glass o' gin last night, so it surely can't be that...but me 'eads all swimmin' around and me stomach is feelin' somethin' awful. I 'aven't ever felt like this before."

Sweeney, seeing she was in no fit condition this morning for baking and hacking body parts, reluctantly helped her to her bedroom, where she at once collapsed upon her still unmade bed.

"Oh, Mistah T, love. I really should be out there gettin' ready, yah know. Can't afford to 'ave a late start on a batch 'o pies, now can I?" She weakly uttered to him, starting to sit up again.

"Stupid woman. You aren't going anywhere near a pie today. Can't you see you're in no condition to be doing anything other than resting like this? Your customers may be daft enough to eat human meat, but I'm more than sure they would notice something was wrong if their pies were filled with vomit. Now, I insist you lay down!" Sweeney made to cover Nellie up then, frowning upon her pallid face.

"Who bloody knows what kind of sickness you might have, my pet. You don't want to risk losing your life over a bloody batch of pies, now do you? 'Sides, you know how much money we have now? We can more than comfortably afford to keep the shops shut for more than a day."

"S'alright, Mistah T. I'll be back to me normal self tomorrow, you'll see. S'nothin at all, just must've had more gin than I remember..." her voice drowsily trailed off, and her eyes fluttered shut, prompting Sweeney to quietly shut the door. Knowing she would be asleep for quite some time, Sweeney shuffled himself into the booth downstairs. Toby was nowhere in sight, and Sweeney was more than thankful for this small allowance. Because at the moment, Sweeney himself was feeling quite ill...

It wasn't really a physical illness that was filling him...no, it was more psychological, what was slowly creeping into him. Because in the back of the mind, the memories slowly marched forward. He knew what this was. And he never wanted it to happen to him again. Least of all with Nellie Lovett. Sure, he had married her, but that hadn't meant anything to him at the time. And maybe he had a slight fondness for her that was beginning to grow, but what else could one expect, with the only other person in one's life? He would never want a _child_ with this woman! Besides, neither of them were exactly fit parents, were they now?

He knew exactly what was happening to Nellie, because he had seen it all before with Lucy. Oh, it could be an illness, or a little too much gin. But he knew it wasn't. How could it be anything else, what with their nightly shags they so carelessly indulged in? They had never discussed the consequences that may occur from their activity. But here was the result now, in front of both their eyes. Oh, how could he be so _stupid_! First he had vowed to never sleep with another woman, and he had quite easily broken that promise, and now he had not only done that, but he had also married again! And was likely to let another child enter his life once more! Sweeney let the thought of his razors flash into his mind for a second. How a nice, swift slice would end any promise of a child, or of Nellie Lovett ever ruining his life again. But it was a rash thought. He really didn't want to do that, not now. He couldn't kill her anymore than he could kill himself at this time. Besides, he didn't really loathe Nellie much anymore; he just felt indifferent to her in his life most of the time. There had been a few moments, resting beside her at night, catching their breath, her hand clasping his, when he felt something. A fire almost was fueled in him again, but he put it out every time it started to gain power. He could never truly love her as she wanted him too. But a part of him did care for her. She was the only person in his life now, and she _had_ provided him with so much since he had come back, even if he was blind to these provisions most of the time.

So no, slitting her throat was ruled out. Sweeney had no other ideas what to do, though. _Best to see if the bloody woman really is pregnant before I start a bloodbath anyways, _he thought.

Quietly creaking her bedroom door open, he stepped beside her bed. She wasn't asleep, as he had expected. She was sharing the same thoughts he was, he knew. Which just confirmed his suspicions further. Nellie raised her eyes towards Sweeney as his form moved closer.

"Wat's wrong now, love?" She softly uttered. However calm she appeared to him on the outside, it was clear her inner workings were a turmoil of ice cold fear and confusion.

"Nellie, I want you to tell me the truth. Are you late?" His eyes narrowed at her, already knowing what words would come out of her forming lips.

"Late? Wat do you...oh." She had tried to sound baffled, but she had seen Sweeney wasn't going to buy it. "Love...I was goin' to tell you, I was. But I wasn't really sure meself until this morning, but now I'm sure. I..." Whatever she had wanted to say, she couldn't finish it. He could see the fright in her eyes, as he moved even closer to her.

"What are we going to do with a child, Nellie? We are hardly fit to be parents and...and I'm not exactly lining up to be a father again." She visibly flinched as these last words struck her. He sighed. She wanted to keep the child. He had feared this. He should have known. Bloody woman was always going on about how she wished she had a little girl with golden curls and blue eyes, or a boy with copper hair and freckles. Trying to persuade her to somehow rid herself of the child was not going to be easy.

"Mistah T...well, it's jus'...we 'ave an awful lot 'o money now and all...we could quite comfortably care for this child together, love. Yah know? I know yah don't really want it but...ain't it time we both moved on now?"

Oh, these words would have sent Sweeney into quite a show of fury only a few months ago. Nellie would have been pinned to the wall with a razor to her throat by now, if more of the old Sweeney remained. But not now. In all honesty, he wasn't sure how he felt now. Because part of him knew every word she said was right. The past was the past, was it not? You could not travel back to it, and relive it. It was sealed in a jar and the lid was closed on it, and he should never open it again. But tiny embers were sparking rage in him still. _Just kill the stupid woman and be over with it. Neither of you deserve to live anymore. Your both worthless pieces of shit, in a city full of shitty people. Do London a small favor, and rid it of you both. _

He didn't do it though. He simply didn't see the point anymore. Why not give a new life a try? If the stupid woman and the child got on his nerves, well...he had seven, beautiful razors that were faithful to him, didn't he?

"Forget it, Nellie. We'll have the child, and that will be that. But don't expect me to be the loving, doting father you think I should be. That phase of my life has passed me, and I can never love anyone or anything again, especially a child." Her head slowly nodded, her eyes trying to suppress the tears he knew were building behind them. She reluctantly let this answer be accepted, because she knew it was the best she would ever get from Sweeney on this subject. Keeping the child as their own was enough to keep her mouth quiet.

Sweeney left the room without another word spoken between either of them, stomping upstairs. He had quite a bit of thoughts to process now, and he intended to review them in the comfort of his gloomy shop.

He must have leafed through every possible scenario that this child could create to ruin his life even further. But the one thought he should have been worried about most, not once crossed his mind.

_I hateeee the ending for this, but this chapter was bad overall, I think haha. I was a bit hurried, and I don't feel it was my best but...at least things are getting started now. I do hope the next chapter I can take my time on and get back to my old writing style and all. But anyways, I hope you guys didn't terribly hate it! Please R&R and I'll see ya'll soon I hope! :D_

_xxxxx Melissa_


	6. In Translation

**Sorry I was so slow in writing this, guys! =( I had major writers block and everyone at Helena-World has been distracting me ahaha. (Love you guys, though :D ) **

**I guess I better make this clear now, haha: I do not speak Latin, nor do I claim to speak Latin. If you are fluent in Latin, please do not take offense to what are probably poor translations. I included it simply because it enhances the storyline, in my opinion, and is somewhat essential to the plot. I wish I could speak Latin fluently though haha...would be mighty helpful and interesting =)**

* * *

"Vita vadum suscipio, quod vita vadum terminus in nomen of Him!" 1

Sweeney Todd obviously was not a man who's blood froze easily. But hearing these words cut through the darkness of the night like his sharpest razor cutting an artery certainly congealed his blood for a moment. And when he realized the source that spoke these words, he felt something he had only once before felt: stark fear, rattling the marrow of his bones.

* * *

It was such a wonderful, secret feeling of jubilance that dispersed throughout Nellie the night she told Sweeney Todd she was pregnant with his child. _I always did get what I want, _she thought to herself, _no matter what the cost was. _Standing in front of her rose tinted looking glass, her hands on her belly, the soft glow of candles in the room flickering across her flushing face, she imagined she felt the first movements of her child. What a lovely turn her life had taken all of a sudden! Money coming in regular, the only man her eyes would seek as her husband now hers, and a child! A perfect, beautiful, sweet child growing in her belly, all because of an act of love shared by her and Sweeney. (Maybe not so much love on Sweeney's part, but he had contributed, after all.) He might not be accepting of the fact he would be a father once again, but Nellie knew, when his eyes locked with the eyes of their child for the first time, he would be a different man.

"Oh, me little Claire or Jane...o' course, if your a boy...Victor or Edward would suit you jus' fine, it would." A smile painted her face, as she continued to rub her stomach, picturing herself on the front veranda of her beach house, a rosy faced babe bundled in her arms, Sweeney admiring beside her.

A sudden flush of candles going out reminded her it was getting quite late, and a certain suitor was awaiting his daily rewards from her. Turning herself from the looking glass, she saw Sweeney's dark form illuminated by the single candle left alight, a tenacious smirk fixed upon his face.

"Why, Mistah T, wuts the meanin' of this lurkin' about in the dark, love?" She said, just to say something. He could be quite an intimidating man; she had forgotten that about him. His eyes fixed upon her own, she felt the familiar feeling of lust jet through her, knees quivering and heart heavy, thrashing against her ribcage.

Without a word of reply, Sweeney had lifted her over his shoulder, his destination clearly their bedroom. The door firmly shut behind them, Sweeney dove at Nellie, hands anxiously exploring under her many layers of fabric.

"Careful now love. We got the lil' one to worry bout now, eh?" But she could no longer protest Sweeney's pressing hands, when they caressed the firm points of her nipples.

"Mmm, you are quite right, my love. But right now we've got big Sweeney to worry about." It was fully obviously what Sweeney meant by "big", when Nellie felt a throbbing hardness against her hip. Lifting her head, she caught a firm kiss from Sweeney, before his hands ripped the bodice of her dress apart with a heavy ripping sound.

"Now Mistah T, wut did yah have to go and do that for!?" Nellie exclaimed, eyes widening in horror at her dress, now a shamble of threads and jagged fabric.

"Would have taken me thirty bloody minutes to figure out how to take it off proper, my pet. Be thankful for small favors." Nellie was shut up when she felt Sweeney slide her undergarments off, along with his own clothing. His hand rubbing fast, then softer against her slick opening, she arched herself against him, purring in delight.

When Sweeney suddenly drew his dripping hand out of her, she opened her mouth to utter her disapproval, but her words were choked to a stutter when Sweeney slid his fingers into her mouth. Not caring it was her own arousal she lapped up, she anxiously wrapped her tongue around each of his fingers, all the time her heavy, dark eyes watching his face. Sucking the sharp, sweet juices from his fingers, she suddenly drew his hand firmly over her breasts, down her stomach, stopping between her dripping thighs, willingly opening her legs wider. With her head thrown back in a graceful arch, her fiery red coils of hair tumbling down her back, wicked lust smoldering over her eyes, she appeared a hellion from the brightest bowels of Hell, the goddess of sex and lust, the Venus or Aphrodite of her time.

Without giving Sweeney a chance to do otherwise, she slid herself on top of him, wrapping her firm thighs around his waist, sinking him into her core, sharp and tight, perfectly suited to her. Riding him in a positively frightening rhythm and speed, Sweeney almost gasped for her to slow down, but the image of her shaking breasts and parted lips stopped him. His icy hands grasping her curvy hips, he pulled her as tightly to him as he could, shuddering in pleasure as he shot into her. His mouth reached up to wrap around her rosy, firm nipple, sucking ever so gently, then almost biting, as Nellie let out her own cry and release.

Sweat glazing their foreheads, she fell to his side, her lips finding his, hands littering about his body. She could feel the warmth swelling off of him, the softness of his breath in her ear. It was this exact picture of contentment that she arose from her bed each morning for. Knowing she had someone to lay beside her at night, his sweat mingling with her own, a familiar form wrapped around her own. And it was usually at this precise moment, when Sweeney was sighing in comfort and drowsiness, all his thoughts washed away with the rain for the time being, that she would speak of the most avoidable subjects with him.

"Love." A ghost of a voice in the air, issued from her wet lips.

"Mmm?" Sweeney couldn't find the energy within him to say much else.

"Wut do yah think we should name it?" Scared to look at his face, worried that the moment was cracked and shattered, pieces that couldn't be glued back together.

"Name what?" Appearantly it was still intact.

"Our bloody child, yah idiot! Wut do yah think we should name 'im or her?!" Too late. Her voice broke the shield, and she feared she had done it now...

"Nellie, you aren't even two months along yet, and you're already thinking of names? And now, of all times, to bring this up? We've got 7 months to think of something." It was apparent the subject was to be closed, when she felt Sweeney roll over on his side, saw his eyes shutting.

"Well love, 'is just that...I been thinkin' today...maybe Clara or Jane if it's a girl...or Edward or Victor...maybe Thomas, if it's a boy. Whadda think, love?" Eyelashes fluttering, trying to turn the charm back on.

"I think I want to go to sleep, Nellie." Sweeney groaned, pulling on arm over his eyes. The charm had worn off, it seemed.

Sighs exhaled from Nellie. It was no of no use now to taunt him any further tonight. The man was as responsive as a boulder sometimes, he was.

Rendering the situation as over, Nellie tucked herself into the crook of Sweeney's free arm, closing her own eyes, drifting off to images of sweet, powder scented babes with frills and rosy cheeks, all hers.

* * *

_Where's me Clara gone to?! Clara, love, where are you? Oh love, don't do this to mommy, please come out, _Nellie frantically thought in her dreams, the pictures of sweetness all erased. The world had turned black. Her eyes no longer fixed lovingly upon bundles of newborns, not in this land. The air was sharp, rich with a coppery scent. But her eyes comprehended nothing except the tar color all around her. Then something was glowing, ten yards away from her. Yellow, reeking of evil, these eyes were. They fixed upon her, although she could see nothing else of their owner. They floated closer. Then a raspy voice, clearly disguised, words sounding like the wind amplified in power.

"Vos es unus Nellie , Vos es exordium of is totus." 2 Somehow the words were easily grasped by her, fluently understood.

"Orsa of quis?"3 Apparently understanding was not limited to hearing; she could also speak the language of this stranger.

"Is mos totus exsisto videlicet , nunc. Sic nunc. Pro panton ut vos teneo is, ero haud magis. Vita mos suscipio, quod vita mos terminus, in nomen of him." 4

"Vita mos suscipio, quod vita mos terminus , in nomen of him." The words drifted out from Nellie's lips. Maybe if they were spoken aloud, their meaning would become clearer, she thought. But alas, it was blank, a black void.

"Etiam , ut est vox Nellie. Narro illud lacuna , pro they es vestri vox." Such a cold, piercing voice. It was devoid of all emotion, all humanity. "Narro lemma iterum! Vilis lemma , sentio suum vox!" 5

"Vita mos suscipio, quod vita mos terminus, in nomen of him!" Oh, what thrills she felt then. She shivered, even though this place was not lacking in warmth. The stranger had spoken the truth; the words gave her, as ludicrous as it seemed, some unseen power. Her voice was not her own anymore, it was thick with blackness, matching the strangers in intensity, full of emptiness. The glowing yellow, the agonizing sense of foreboding, vanished without warning. And the world was alight in red.

Licking, clambering pillars of red, orange, white, heat, the stench of death all around. So vivid, this couldn't be a dream, this was really happening! This was real! Her skin was peeling, death invading her nostrils, laughter all around, shrieks, chanting, eyes of piercing yellow, oh, please no. Talons raking her, skin in shreds, sacrifice to the red, she was. And the deepest laughter of all, it was Him.

The world evaporated. Blackness took shape once again. And Nellie Lovett was no more.

* * *

**Oooh, ominous, eh? Haha. I wasn't sure where I was going with this chapter, to be honest, until I started writing it. It always ends up working that way, somehow. But I'm pretty satisified. Oh, and one more thing you might have noticed. Some of my chapters have been named after episodes of the show Lost. Not only did I find the titles fitting, but I'm extremely, extremely obsessed with Lost so it influences me probably a little too much haha. **

**Well, until next time, valete! (Latin for goodbye haha) **

**Melissa**

1 "Life shall begin, and life shall end in the name of Him!"

2. "You are the one, Nellie, You are the beginning of it all."

3. "Beginning of what?"

4. "It will all be clear, soon. so soon. For everything as you know it, will be no more. Life will begin, and life will end, in the name of him."

5. "Yes, that is right Nellie. Speak those words, for they are your power." "Speak them again! Mean them, feel their power!"


	7. Devour Thy Prey

**Yeesh. So yeah, I know I suck. I have no good excuse for not writing, except for a case of the inevitable, lovely writer's block haha...and I was a bit sick for awhile too. But anyway, without further ado, I shall continue...Oy, and this chapter has a bit of a gruesome part in it so...don't eat while reading this. Haha! **

* * *

Across a barren landscape, the time neither day nor night, the air laden with heavy fog, Tobias Ragg sprinted. With no other thought than that of putting as much distance between himself and what he had just seen, he stumbled over black rocks, bizarre spiked plants licking his legs fervently. The sky glowed crimson, shot through with sooty black.

There was nothing to be seen in the wide expanse of empty land in front of Toby, and there was nothing except for that _thing_ behind him. He had prayed to whatever God whom would listen to him that he would never have to face it in his lifetime; those empty eyes. The rank, black breath and the hands...oh, he shuddered to think of it now. If he ever faced that thing again, he knew it would be the last act of his life.

But why should he fear it? He had done what it had asked of him. He had completed the minuscule task weeks ago, the task that however unimportant it seemed in perspective, was more shameful than anything he ever had done. He couldn't undo it now. The act was finalized, and it would continue to be carried out.

If he were to try to ask _anyone _to help him (but who would even believe him?) he was sure that thing would catch him, devour him, spit him into a black pit of flames. No, he must continue to act as if he felt indifferent towards the entire ordeal. That thing was aroused by fear, it fed off of it, and surely if it detected Toby possessed even an ounce of it, he would be sacrificed in seconds.

His sides split, searing with white flashes of pain from endlessly running for more than 5 minutes now. He would die if he ran another foot; but of course, the same would happen if he ceased his running. He gagged, his mouth having the feeling of a large wad of cotton stuffed in it, his head pounding; surely that was his brain beating against his skull, trying to burst out.

As if deciding for him whether he should expel from running, his feet caught on a large rock, slamming his face into the ashy ground. He heard it approach behind him, the heavy footsteps echoing off of the empty land. Oh, the foulness that exhausted off of it's body, it seeped into Toby's nostrils, invading his senses.

Then it spoke to him, a voice heavy as stones, full of mocking and authority. "You, my son, have done as I have asked of you. Yet I sense regret and fear in you. Know now, that regret for anything one does is weakness, and I despise a weak human. But, because the deed you carried out was most important to the completion of our ultimate goal, I shall not punish you this time. I sense you also feel what you have done is of no importance, either, but that is not true, my son. Without your accompany to ____ , we never would have succeeded. Now, my boy, we have only to wait, for the greatness that will live!"

A faint howling wind sounded in the air, but there was no other noise to be heard now. Toby slowly tilted his head around, seeing nothing but a bleak, dark landscape, no form anywhere in his eyesight. It had left.

* * *

On the same night Nellie Lovett experienced her ominous, disquieting dream, Toby Ragg also was visited by an otherworldly being in his sleep. He awoke in the tiny bedroom off of the sitting room, his sheets soaked through with perspiration, his heart trying to burst through his ribcage (or so it felt.) Sheets tangled in his legs, over the floor, his hair a strewn every which way, he blinked in the pitch darkness of the room.

_It was a dream, a dream and nothing more, _he softly told himself. But was it? It hadn't felt like a regular dream. It seemed to almost...seep into him in a way he could not explain. He felt sinister, laying in the dark, recalling the details of what he had just experienced. And most of all, a great void of guilt trampled in his stomach. His chest felt tight, and his breath cut short, because he knew exactly what he had done, and exactly what the consequences were. He knew he had changed the world somehow.

* * *

It was a rare treat, having the sun spill through the windows like this, warming the dreary room, as Nellie Lovett lobbed dollops of of human flesh on top of each meat pie. She hummed softly to herself, breathing in the savory aroma of the rich fruit pie she was baking especially for Mr. Todd. She hadn't any idea why she felt the need to bake him a pie, but it felt like the right thing to do at the time, and so it simmered in the oven with it's sugary, rich scent filling the air.

Nellie recalled no memories of anything she dreamed of the previous night. It was almost as if the information had been sucked out of her mind and stored away for another time. She would have never known she even had dreamt that night, if it weren't for Sweeney lumbering downstairs...

"Afternoon, love. You come for some lunch? Lemme jus' finish this batch o' pies up an' I'll be right with yah." She scraped the remaining filling into a pie and set the heavy mixing bowl on the counter.

"No, I wasn't coming for lunch, actually. I came to ask you what the bloody hell you were dreaming of last night. Scared the life right out of me, it did, hearing you talk like that."

"Talk like wut' love? I don't seem to remember much o' anything last night, except you ripping me dress to shreds." She winked coyly at him, leaning her elbows on the counter, head rested in her palms.

"Speaking in bloody Latin or some language you don't even speak! Unless you've never told me you speak Latin." Sweeney tried to ignore her heavy cleavage spilling out of her dress as she leaned over the counter, pulling his eyes up to the ceiling and rolling them.

'I dun speak Latin, love. But I dun remember speaking it in me dreams either, ever. Well, wuts it matter anyhow? Jus' a silly dream is all it was surely." Nellie was heading towards the stairs, a tray of pies ready to be baked in her hands.

Sweeney opened his mouth, not sure what he was going to say even. He didn't want the woman to know how much she had scared him the previous night. A man who slashed the throats of human beings daily, scared of a tiny, silly woman talking in her sleep? Oh, she would never let him forget that. He pinched his lips together instead, as his eyes followed her disappearing round bum down the stairs...

* * *

Nellie firmly closed the oven door behind her, wiping a palm across her flushed forehead. Although she must have forced her able legs up and down these stairs a million times in her life, it was proving to be quite a difficult task with another human being living inside of her. The wavering way her body stood at the top of the stairs, flashes of vertigo she had never before experienced washing over her as she looked down, the poison stench of the fumes down here here invading her nostrils and mind. _Ah, yes, these are surely the joys of motherhood_, she thought to herself sarcastically.

The oven seemed particularly hellish in temperature today, blazing like a million suns greased in gasoline then set afire. The basement had always been dank, gray, moldy, and sinister. Sewers lurking just below, with God knew what living in them, streams of blood flowing like wine into the grates, hacked body parts a strew on the tables, cleavers hanging on hooks off the wall. The devil himself might make his home down here, if he pleased. Certainly no one would find him in the macabre grave that was Nellie Lovett's basement.

As Nellie regained her breath, trying to keep the lurching waves of vertigo and faintness at bay, a deep, thundering rumble issued from her stomach. Realizing she hadn't yet gotten around to making any lunch, she started up the stairs to do so, remembering Sweeney up there as well.

But her dainty, booted foot paused in mid-air, another thought occurring to her out of the blue. Yes, it did seem the right way to whet her appetite, now that she thought of it. Surely there was no harm, no one would be any more the wiser she had done it. It was just this once, wasn't it? Just a curious inquisition was all it was, really.

She _was _hungry, after all. Why go through all the trouble of preparing a meal when everything she needed was right in front of her?

Her body moved towards the table, but her feet didn't really belong to her as she walked. Someone else was mastering her movements, she wasn't aware of anything but the suddenly intoxicating, sharp, rich, delicious aroma of human flesh.

Nimble little fingers carefully pried a hunk of arm off the table, red sinewy muscle showing where it had been cut apart. It was still fresh, the poor bugger only slaughtered this morning. The flesh was alabaster, frigid, wiry veins cut off at the hand, the stump of the arm a scrambled mess. The skin was contrasted, even in all it's blindingly pale glory, against the rugged bone extending from the top. Cracked off, splintered pieces hung down, like grisly toothpicks for when the meal was over.

Her teeth sunk into the arm, pulling away the soft, pliable meat. She chewed it thoughtfully, pondering on the taste. It was quite familiar to a sumptuous beef roast she had once ate in her childhood, a meat she had only once before had, and never thought she would taste again. Human flesh was sweet, she decided, but with a slightly bitter under taste, and not quite as tough as she would have expected.

Of course, if she were to cook it, it might have been all the more delicious, but Nellie Lovett had no intentions of doing anything of the sort. If she was going to indulge in such a taboo act as cannibalism, it was best to do it properly, and eat it from the bone.

It seemed it had only been a minute, yet the plump arm she had been holding seconds again was picked clean to the bone, only drips of ragged flesh clinging on. Her face was spattered in blood and tissue, bits of grainy flesh stuck between her teeth.

Yet, while taking a soppy rag up and wiping it swiftly across her face, she realized she wasn't fulfilled. Her hunger wasn't bated yet. Her cravings were only increasing, and she lingered over a chunk of torso, hacking it into a smaller piece with her familiar friend, the cleaver.

Stuffing the ripe flesh into her mouth, she found her breathing harsh, panicked, her own flesh was becoming clammy. Her fingers couldn't shove enough meat into her mouth fast enough, and the blood dripping down the front of her new, prettily printed dress soaked through, yet she still didn't stop.

Only until the last dregs of the poor man's torso were settled into her stomach did she stop. And she smiled to herself, a crimson ragged smile, her teeth like razors, her eyes like coal, her hands gloves of wine.

But she didn't notice Sweeney Todd standing at the bottom of the steps, Sweeney Todd who had been there all along, who had seen his wife transform into a savage, wicked demoness before his own jaded eyes.

And she turned to him, a wicked tongue licking the crimson off her lips, a smile etched deeply on her face.

* * *

**Okay, I hated that ending but...I had to stop there, or else it would be a whole other chapter haha...I did say this would get gory and extreme, and it's just starting now. Is it wrong that I have the most fun writing the goriest parts? Haha. I'm just a twisted person, I suppose. **

**Oh, and the bit at the beginning when Toby has the dream and "the thing" is talking to him, where there is a blank ___ that's just so as not to reveal who that character is yet haha. **

**I'll try and be a bit faster with the next chapter, but writer's block seems to hit at random intervals with me, so there is no telling...:( BUT...I do have a really good idea for a one-shot, so I might be working on that soon at least. It's going to be hottt, that's all I'm saying. =D**

**Alrighty, until next time....**

**-Melissa**


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